


eat you up

by SoIntoYou



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Light BDSM, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoIntoYou/pseuds/SoIntoYou
Summary: “Do you see how obedient she is, how good?”





	

When Margaery Tyrell arrived in King’s Landing to take Sansa’s place, Sansa was understandably wary. After her relief of being let out of Joffrey’s clutches, her thoughts immediately ran to Cersei Lannister, who had made Sansa’s old position so tenuous and miserable. How would she react to the girl who had filled Sansa’s place, but had so much more bargaining power and protection to call her own?

Margaery’s arrival diverted attention from Sansa herself, true. But there was something about Cersei’s heavy, caustic bitterness and the way she’d treated Sansa as Joffrey’s fiancée, made a strange dread twist in Sansa’s stomach. And she didn’t know why, when Margaery meant very little to her; Margaery had been kind, in a sweet and airy way, only in passing, when they’d met. The other girl was a stranger to her, and yet Sansa wondered what might happen to her, now that she was the one in the lion’s clutches. And Joffrey was not the only Lannister with claws. The lioness was equally dangerous.

So Sansa did what she did best. She watched the two of them in close quarters, whenever she had the opportunity—which wasn’t often. It was like watching two snakes in the grass, or two wild animals plotting battle. Cersei watched Margaery with something narrowing her eyes, barely disguising her dislike beneath half-sharp, half-tired smiles. Margaery directed the full force of her overwhelming sweetness towards the older queen, her guile suspect in its sheer volume. It was fascinating.

Then Sansa ended up in Cersei Lannister’s chambers for dinner with both the new queen and the ascendant one, and everything changed.

 

 

Sansa didn’t know what she’d expected to come of her invitation to the queen’s table for dinner, but it certainly wasn’t this.

It was anything but Margaery Tyrell’s hot, surprisingly wet mouth on hers, or the other girl’s skilled and certain hands moving around her waist as they leaned together on the bench. It wasn’t the queen Regent Cersei Lannister leaning forward in her chair just a few feet away, watching the two of them kiss hot and open-mouthed, and urging them on in a low, almost disdainful voice. “That’s right, Sansa. Don’t you like kissing her?”

Sansa blinked, her vision already heavy and hazy, her thoughts clumping together almost incomprehensibly. She did, but it was certainly confusing. She paused for a moment, eying the queen with only half her attention as Margaery bit at her lower lip, sucking at it, making the hot kind of sounds Sansa had only ever imagined, dragging both hands over Sansa’s waist.

Moments passed. Sansa’s brain was fogging, her capacity to think clouding like steam on a summer’s day. The queen leaned forward in her carved wooden chair, folding both hands in her lap. “Take off her dress,” she directed softly, and Sansa had a moment of confusion, glancing over. Cersei rolled her eyes at Sansa’s apparent cluelessness. “Take off Margaery’s dress.”

Turning her eyes to the other girl, who was still pressing kisses up Sansa’s neck, Sansa obediently reached down between them to unfasten the golden rose belt that held Margaery’s waist, undoing the tiny clasps that held her bodice shut. She pushed the collar open and gently slipped the sides of the sleeves down. Margaery arched her back with the release of a slow, sweet breath as her pert breasts were revealed, smaller than Sansa’s, but topped with sweet rose-pink nipples. Now the top of Margaery’s gown pooled around her waist and Margaery stared at Sansa with sweet, opaque patience, biting her lip in what might be described as a coy patient way. She was utterly unashamed by her half-nudity, she was not even blushing the way that Sansa would be; in fact, she seemed to be waiting for something. She was as pliant as a doll, which was at odds with the lively and birdlike animation she’d always displayed in public. Interesting.

“Touch her,” said Cersei Lannister in a low and resonant purr, and Sansa looked at her with a ripple of nervous questioning in her chest. Her head was starting to hurt with all these clashing emotions. The queen Regent nodded her golden leonine head, raising an eyebrow. Her lush mouth tightened. “You heard me, touch her.”

Margaery glanced at Sansa in a brief, opaque way that didn’t say _no,_ and then, oddly, her eyes went to the queen. Again, she had that complacent, waiting air about her. Sansa put a tentative hand on Margaery’s face, and then slid down to her neck and down over her collarbone, and then farther down as the queen Regent nodded in her peripheral vision.

Like a pleased housecat, responding to the sensation, Margaery closed her eyes and sighed hotly, loudly, arching her back as Sansa ran both hands over her hands, lifting their surprising weight, feeling the warmth of Margaery’s smooth skin. Her nipples rose under Sansa’s palms; made curious by the sensation, Sansa lowered her head to look at them, pebbling and pink, and ran her fingertips over them. Margaery’s eyes snapped open, head still tipped back, but she was arching her back and moving while she gazed again at the queen.

“Do you see how obedient she is, how good?” the queen said appreciatively. “See how she does everything I tell her to?” Margaery smiled, her little teeth showing pearly white against her pink lips, and she didn’t take her eyes off the queen. Sansa swallowed, uncertain. The two women were never like this in court. Who could have known they would have such a different dynamic in private?

“Now it’s your turn, little bird,” Cersei said softly, and Margaery’s sighs died away. The older girl turned her gaze intently to Sansa, who had suddenly gone a little cold.

“Your Grace?” Sansa said neutrally.

“It’s your turn,” the queen said. “Remove your dress.”

Margaery straightened, speaking for the first time since they’d started. Her voice was a sweet, throaty chirp. “Should I help her, your Grace?”

Cersei Lannister shook her head in one neat movement, eyes fixed on Sansa. “That’s perfectly all right, Margaery. Sansa can do this by herself.”

Sansa tried to protest, but the words died away on her lips. Somehow she knew that protesting would be futile. Somehow she realized that this would happen from the moment she’d tasted Margaery Tyrell’s lips on hers, and somehow she was excited, not frightened. Blushing from ear to ear, she stood slowly, moving a few steps away from the dinner table. She stared back at the queen until her eyes dropped to remove her clothing. She slowly removed her gown, her smallclothes, and her corset, until she stood there in nothing but her slippers, the tepid night air moving over her skin like a new, erotic set of clothes. Only then did she raise her eyes again to see both older women staring at her, the queen with cold approval, and Margaery with a heated expression that was more difficult to read.

“My, you’re beautiful as I always suspected,” the queen regent said, and her voice was unusually warm. “Come here, little bird.”

Sansa crossed the room slowly until she stood before the queen. Cersei Lannister gazed up at her steadily as she put both hands on Sansa’s breasts, lifting them, feeling their weight. Her hands were warm, and Sansa shivered with something like lust. She ran her hands over Sansa’s body, fondling her buttocks, smoothing over the curve of her hips. Then she stroked Sansa’s reddish pubic hair. “Part your legs,” she said, “and put your hands behind your back.”

Burning with humiliation, Sansa complied. But when the queen’s smooth hand stroked between Sansa’s legs, it found the hot wetness that Sansa had felt ever since touching Margaery. Even being exposed like this, handled like livestock, had not muted the arousal and excitement she felt—in fact, it seemed to strengthen it. Cersei slipped her fingers over Sansa’s cunt, almost pressing the tips inside, but withdrew just as Sansa let out a stifled whimper.

“Ahh, so you do like it,” the queen said, satisfied, removing her hand. Sansa glanced to her side and saw Margaery gazing at the two of them with the strangest look, hunger and raw jealousy mixed together. “I think Margaery can help you with that.” She got to her feet.

Cersei made Sansa lie spread-eagled on her back on the canopied bed, head resting in the queen’s lap as the queen reclined against the headboard carved with golden lions. Margaery, dressed in nothing but her gold-thorned belt, crouched on the bed and lowered her head to Sansa’s cunt. She feasted on Sansa as if she were starving, and using only her tongue she brought Sansa to her peak. As Margaery worked, eyes occasionally meeting Sansa’s but almost steadily fixed on the queen who sat above Sansa, Cersei Lannister stroked and fondled Sansa’s breasts, sending waves of pleasure through her, and occasionally reached down to pet Margaery’s hair. When Sansa came, moaning in ecstasy, the queen Regent leaned down and pressed a warm, upside-down kiss to Sansa’s mouth. Sansa felt a warm bolt of pleasure.

“Did you like that?” the queen asked, leaning back, and Sansa propped herself up on her elbows, nodding in equal parts eagerness and dizziness. The queen laughed. “I thought so. It’s time for something a little different.” She motioned to Margaery, who came up eagerly to her other side crawling on all fours. The queen leaned over to whisper in Margaery’s ear, and Margaery nodded. She got off the bed, completely naked, and crossed to the night table. When she returned, she was bearing something long, thin, and golden. Sansa gazed at it, not understanding, still half-supine on the bed.

“Sansa,” the queen said smoothly, “Lie down again. Margaery has something for you.”

Margaery fastened her pink lips around the rod-shaped object, fellating it, her eyes twinkling with anticipation, and suddenly Sansa understood. She twisted her hips anxiously. “Oh, no, I don’t—”

“Oh, I know you’ve never had anything inside you before,” Cersei Lannister said soothingly. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you? A virgin? So was Margaery, before. Don’t worry, she’ll get it ready for you. Come here, Margaery. Give me that.”

Margaery clambered over the bed eagerly. Sansa was allowed to sit up, and felt herself growing wet again as the queen gripped the rod in one hand and worked it into Margaery’s mouth as if it were a member. Margaery eagerly sucked and licked at the phallus as Cersei Lannister pushed it in and out of her mouth. At last the queen withdrew it, tapping it gently against Margaery’s cheek, and handed it to the younger girl. “All right. Let’s put this in Sansa.”

Sansa was made to lie down again with her head in the queen’s lap. This time, her legs dangled over the side of the bed and Margaery knelt on the floor between them. She spread Sansa’s legs and fastened her mouth on Sansa’s cunt so deliciously that Sansa saw stars. But before she could reach another orgasm, Margaery had placed the tip of the rod against Sansa’s tight entrance and pressing it gently there.

“Oh…” she whined, twisting her hips, but Margaery laid a hand on her hip. “Shh. Calmly. Patiently.”

There were only a few moments of discomfort; Margaery paused to lick Sansa in between pushing the phallus inside her. Suddenly the resistance was gone and it slid in slickly. Margaery made an appreciative noise as she pushed it in farther and farther, until at last she stopped. Sansa drew a shocked breath, surprised by the sudden sensation of being so filled.

The queen craned her neck to get a better look. “Is that all she can take?”

“Yes,” answered Margaery, looking up with a smirk. “For now.”

The queen nodded. “Well, make her feel it.”

Sansa scarcely had time to let out a low whine before Margaery yanked the phallus out almost all the way and pushed it in again slowly, twisting it and changing her thrusting speed. It was the strangest feeling to be filled this way. It didn’t hurt, but didn’t bring her relief either until Margaery lowered her head and began licking at Sansa again, resting her cheek against Sansa’s thigh so she could fuck her and lick her at the same time.

Sansa came with a particularly wicked thrust and twist of the member. Going boneless, she sighed heavily.

Margaery withdrew the phallus and made Sansa take it. “Go kneel on the floor,” she instructed her. Sansa did as she was told. “Now put it inside yourself.”

It was different to do it this way, to push the foreign object inside. But Sansa eased herself down on the member, adjusting the angle of her hips until it fit, sliding inside her. She was amazed at how much she could put in. “Fuck yourself on it,” the queen commanded, and Sansa obeyed, moving her hips up and down. “Keep going,” the queen continued, “and don’t stop until I say you may. Now watch us.”

Margaery lay back on the bed, and the queen lifted her skirts and straddled her face. Margaery’s head and neck disappeared completely under the swath of the queen’s dress, and Sansa suddenly realized that she mustn’t be wearing any smallclothes. The queen rocked her hips back and forth and hummed. Sansa grew red as she imagined Margaery working under there. Margaery’s legs went straight out in front of the queen and after a few minutes, without the queen lifting herself up, her sighs only growing louder, those legs started kicking and thrashing.

The queen laughed and lifted herself up daintily, pulling her long skirts up to her waist to reveal a beautiful thatch of blonde pubic hair that covered her cunt, and Margaery’s reddened face beneath it as the young girl gasped for breath. Margaery was wet all over with what looked like tears mixed with the queen’s arousal. As the queen hovered over her, she lifted her head and renewed licking with interest. The queen pushed her skirts back and leaned down to roughly cup and squeeze Margaery’s breasts; Margaery let out a moan, and the queen pushed her hips down harder.

“None of that, now,” she said sweetly, and looked directly at Sansa. “Don’t stop, little bird.”

Sansa flushed and kept moving up and down on the phallus. It was easy when she was growing so wet from the scene before her.

Finally the queen let out a huge groan and came. Sansa had not come from the penetration alone, but she stilled her movements and waited for instruction.

The queen lifted herself off, leaving Margaery lying there on the bed. “Sansa,” she said almost kindly, “please come clean Margaery up. And you can take that out now.”

Sansa moved up to the bed, after carefully removing the phallus from herself and setting it on the night table. She hesitated when she glanced at the other girl lying prostrate and wet-faced on the bed, looking for a cloth, but the queen shook her head. “Oh, no. With your tongue. And sit on her.”

Margaery gazed up at her, her entire face wet and blushing. Momentarily taken aback, Sansa straddled her. The older girl seemed serene and almost emotionless. The way she stared at Sansa was practically unfocused, like her thoughts were somewhere else. Uncertain what to do, Sansa lowered her mouth and gave Margaery a tentative kiss, licking across the older girl’s lips. Margaery tasted of salt. Her mouth opened underneath Sansa’s and she seemed to come to attention, pulling Sansa into a deeper kiss, all tongue and teeth.

There was a sharp tug on Sansa’s scalp. The queen was not pleased. “Her face. Clean it.”

Sansa swallowed and did as she was told, making her tongue go flat and striping it over the planes of Margaery’s face. First she went around the older girl’s mouth, and then down her cheeks, around her eyes, which the older girl closed one by one as Sansa licked over them, licking over Margaery’s eyelids and eyelashes. It all tasted of salt and sex.

The older girl was twisting her hips as Sansa worked, clearly aroused, and Sansa found that she was equally turned on by her strange ministrations. Eventually, by the time Sansa had finished licking away the come and tears on Margaery’s face, she lifted her head and moaned as they rutted against each other. Sansa’s thigh had found its way between Margaery’s legs, and Margaery pressed her thigh between Sansa’s thighs, and they moved faster and harder and more desperately against each other until in a chorus of cries and moans, they both came. Margaery’s arms linked around Sansa, digging her nails into Sansa’s ass, as Sansa collapsed atop her, spent after humping her way to completion.

“Now, now, girls,” said the queen, “did I say you could do that?” Sansa lifted her head, uncertain. Beneath her Margaery looked embarrassed, but almost defiant.

“Sansa doesn’t know the rules, so I can let that go. But, Margaery,” the queen shook an admonishing finger, “you’re going to have to be punished.”

Margaery looked defeated, staring up at the bed canopy. The queen stood gracefully and crossed to a gilded chair with arm rests that sat at the foot of the bed. Sansa watched her. “Margaery, come here,” the queen said silkily. Margaery slowly peeled herself up, away from Sansa, and off the bed—but clearly not fast enough. When she finally came to stand before the queen, the queen greeted her by giving one nipple a hard twist that made Margaery cry out. “What have I told you about dawdling? Don’t make me wait, girl.” She accompanied it with a slap to Margaery’s bottom that made Margaery gasp, the mark of her hand quickly reddening the skin.

Sansa watched uncertainly from the bed. Glancing up at her, Cersei Lannister smiled a sharp smile. “Sansa, I’d like to you to watch this… and touch yourself.”

She then pulled Margaery over her lap, pushing Margaery’s long hair to one side so that Sansa could see the older girl’s face. Margaery was squirming and whining breathily. “Oh, please, my queen, I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again, I promise…”

“You were a bad girl,” said the queen, unmoved, “and bad girls must be punished.” She lifted her right hand high in the air and brought it down on Margaery’s flanks. Margaery let out a squeal of pain and delight, and the queen did it again and again. “That’s for being naughty, little girl.”

By the time the queen was done with the spanking, Margaery was crying again, her entire face red and covered with tears. Her buttocks were equally red. The queen reached down and forced her legs apart, roughly stroking her cunt. “Just as wet as I thought, you little slut.” With her other hand she grasped Margaery’s hair by the roots and yanked her head up, the young girl gasping in pain. “I know you liked that, didn’t you?” She began to roughly finger Margaery, and Margaery braced both feet against the stone floor, hips twisting up into the motion.

“Oh, yes, my queen…” Her moans died away into breathy grunts and whines, until finally she was crying out with shaky breaths, “May I come, my queen? M-may I?”

The queen continued on for at least another minute, Margaery’s need clearly mounting, before stopping. “Yes, you may.”

Margaery moaned and wailed. Just at the peak of her climax, the word was torn from her lips, a sound of ecstasy and agony together: “C-Cersei…”

The queen’s face contracted, and she let go of Margaery’s hair and pushed her so hard that the young girl tumbled, naked, to the ground. Only a thin carpet covered the floor, and Margaery curled in a C on the ground, clearly in pain. Sansa gasped to see such rough treatment.

“I really don’t think you’re learning. What have I told you about taking such liberties?” But the queen’s voice was shaky, as if she weren’t quite as in control as she seemed.

So Margaery was forced to get on all fours and eat Sansa’s cunt yet again, her knees on the rough flagstones. Sansa’s hips rested just at the edge of the soft carpet as she lay on her back; Margaery had to kneel entirely on the stone. But this time, Cersei Lannister perched on a footstool behind her. In one hand she held the phallus with which Margaery had penetrated Sansa. Margaery worked on Sansa with single-minded concentration, but even as Sansa was pleasured, she worried what the queen might do next.

She had done well to worry. “Margaery, take your hands and spread your buttocks,” the queen instructed. She bent her head to apply her tongue there, and Sansa could see a lot of the queen’s face, more than if the queen had merely licked Margaery’s cunt. Margaery moaned openly, her breasts brushing the floor, pushing her face more deeply between Sansa’s legs. It was the only way she could maintain balance with both hands behind her, spreading herself wide for the queen.

But then the queen took the phallus and lowered it. “So wet, aren’t you?” she said with a cruel laugh in her voice, moving her arm; when she raised the member again, it was gleaming wet where she must have rubbed it against Margaery’s juicy cunt. “Keep yourself spread, my dear,” she hummed, and then lowered her hand. The tip of the phallus disappeared into the cleft of Margaery’s buttocks.

And then suddenly Margaery lifted her head from slurping Sansa’s cunt and gasped, her eyes going wide and round with shock. “Please!” she mumbled into Sansa’s heated flesh, still not moving from her prostrate submissive position. The queen arched both eyebrows and leaned forward to yank Margaery’s head back by the hair, forcing Margaery’s breasts harder against the rough stone floor.

“You don’t tell me what I may or may not do,” she said warningly, but there was something pleased in her voice, as if she’d fully expected this rebellion. “So may I continue, or do you want to go back to your virginal, sexless life? On official record, that is?”

“No…” moaned Margaery. The queen sat back on her footstool, and Margaery went back to sucking on Sansa’s cunt, but with frequent pauses and heartfelt moans. Sansa realized with horror and fascination that the queen was slowly working the phallus not into Margaery’s cunt, but into her more private hole.

Inch by inch, the phallus disappeared into Margaery’s bottom. Margaery was keening and crying, but her hands never left her own cheeks, spreading herself wide for the queen’s taking. She was utterly obedient. When Sansa finally shuddered, yelled out, and came, Margaery laid her cheek flat on Sansa’s cunt, her face getting all wet but she didn’t seem to care. She rocked forward slowly, writhing under the penetration. The queen was working slowly and carefully, pausing at intervals to lick at Margaery’s entrance.

“You’re so tight,” the queen breathed. “No one else has ever been in here, have they? Your ass belongs to me, little girl. It’s all mine. Now push your tits against that floor. You know it feels better when it hurts.”

Margaery groaned, obeying, and Sansa’s own breasts tingled to imagine how that rough stone must feel against Margaery’s sensitive nipples. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the long gold member disappearing into Margaery. The queen’s eyes widened in delight when at last her hand grasping the end of the phallus almost reached Margaery’s ass. It seemed that Margaery had taken all she could take.

“Do you like that, Margaery?” the queen asked sweetly, and Margaery groaned, eyelashes gleaming with tears and Sansa’s come. “Oh, yes, my queen.”

“Oh, I think you do. And what about—” the queen gave the faux member a little twist in Margaery’s tight hole, and Margaery gasped and squealed, “—this?”

The queen pulled the phallus in and out of Margaery, slowly whispering, “All mine. You’re all mine.” She placed a bite on one of Margaery’s cheeks, and Margaery kept rocking back and forth, keening with pain and pleasure, making low noises in her throat. “Yes, my queen, yes…”

Finally the queen lowered her other hand to stroke Margaery’s cunt. She began to move the phallus harder and faster in and out of Margaery’s ass, much more roughly. Margaery keened and yowled like a bitch in heat, her face rubbing against Sansa’s cunt. At last Margaery came explosively, screaming. “Oh gods! Oh gods, yes! Cersei, fuck me, I’m all yours, I belong to you, oh gods—”

Cersei Lannister kept fucking Margaery’s tender hole until Margaery’s orgasm had subsided. She licked around the phallus again, and then slowly withdrew it. Margaery gasped unhappily at the sensation. The queen examined the member, wet almost to its length. “Look at that. Look at all you can take, and all you took for me.” She set the member on the ground and raked her nails over Margaery’s still reddened and inflamed buttocks; Margaery hissed through her teeth. “And you’d do it again, wouldn’t you?” the queen breathed, digging her nails into the young girl’s flesh. “You would, isn’t that right, Margaery?”

Finally the queen retreated, drawing back to sit on her footstool again. “That’s enough, Margaery. You may sit up now.”

Margaery slowly and gingerly sat up, kneeling back on her haunches. She leaned against Cersei Lannister where the queen was seated on the footstool so that her back was against the queen’s clothed chest.

Cersei Lannister put her head over Margaery’s shoulder, leaned down and tightened her slim, elegant fingers on Margaery’s nipples, the creamy breasts a little scratched and marked from pushing against the rough floor, squeezing and twisting tightly. Margaery gasped and let out a hissing moan, head falling back against the queen’s shoulder. Her legs were apart, knees spread, and her hips moved in aimless motions against the air as if trying to find friction. Sansa could see Margaery’s gleaming sex, wet pink and just concealed beneath the curls of pubic hair.

The queen regent gave Margaery’s nipples one more hard twist, slapped her pert little breasts, and grasped the young girl by the hair, winding it around her hand so that Margaery twisted her body to accommodate it, looking beseechingly up at the older woman. Cersei regarded her before leaning down to press their mouths together. Margaery moaned in release and absolute delight, leaning up into the kiss, moving up on her haunches. She seemed to devour the older woman’s mouth, but Cersei Lannister was equally fierce with her kisses, full lips moving and pink tongue darting in and out, winding her hands through Margaery’s long brown hair and tugging it so that Margaery gave little squeals of pain interspersed with breathy moans.

They kissed for what seemed like ages, both clearly thirsting for it. It even seemed that they’d spent the entire time waiting just for this very moment, when they could be joined together, in some sort of twisted communion.

Cersei glanced up at Sansa, something kindling in her eyes that lit a fire of equal parts dread and lust in Sansa’s lower half. “Sansa, darling? Come here. It’s your turn.” 

Margaery had curled in the queen’s lap, looking for the entire world like some satisfied, well-fucked lap cat. “Sansa,” she echoed, “Come—”

 

 

Sansa jerked awake in the privacy of her curtained bed, in the nighttime stillness of her bedchamber.

Her sheets were drenched in sweat. She rolled over to take a drink of cold water.

 _What on earth was that?_ She ran through the details of the dream, her cheeks flushing more and more heavily as she remembered each one. But with everything she remembered, the more aroused she became. She lay back on her pillow, already cooling in the night air, and began touching herself. Though she’d never done it before, she slipped two fingers inside herself, testing it out. Combined with fingers on her outer nub, it brought her orgasm to an entirely new level of intensity.

When she came she cried out in a series of choked out gasps and moans, imagining for a moment that she wasn’t alone in her bed, that she really was being touched by the two queens who had warred for power in her dream. For once, Sansa hadn’t minded being the middle of their power struggle.

The next time she saw Margaery Tyrell, she couldn’t look the other girl in the eye. As for Cersei Lannister, Sansa avoided her at all costs.

She wanted nothing to do with them. And for all her sex-soaked dreams had suggested otherwise, she wanted nothing to do in their beds, either. Truly.

 

 


End file.
